


Mr. Whoever You Are

by secretsofthesky



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Drabble, Drinking, F/M, Troubled Betty, Troubled Jughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15675858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsofthesky/pseuds/secretsofthesky
Summary: “Hi Jughead, I’ve been hoping you would ask me to dance.”She smelled like vanilla, masking the scent of booze and motor oil around them and he closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled, feeling her body move slightly closer to his, more hesitant than he’d seen her be with others.“I’m not much of a dancer.”She chuckled then, the sound washing over him. “You’re doing perfect.”





	Mr. Whoever You Are

* * *

 

She says take me for one more song

Mr. Whoever You Are

* * *

 

It had been two months since she first stepped into the bar and consequently into his life.  

 

Golden hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, not a strand out of place, eyes darting from side to side as she took her hesitant steps, looking uncertain. At a glance you would think it was just because she was in a new place, where she stood out with her khakis and pale pink shirt among dark denim and leather. But if you looked closer, you would see the pale green depths swam with tragedy and defeat and it wasn’t the new place she walked into that had her looking lost, but the look stemmed from something much deeper.

 

He assumed that was what had brought her to the Southside of town and into the dirty bar he was just about to leave before the door opened and the darkness was filled with a light that it didn’t deserve.

 

Betty Cooper.

 

They had went to different schools, ran in different crowds and had never crossed paths before... but he knew her name, knew some of her story. He would never be ignorant enough to assume he knew it all because he was well aware that despite what was splashed across the papers that there was _always_ more. And that more, the things the media _didn’t_ know, the fallout from tragedy that people didn’t get over even as the headlines faded, is what drove people to madness.

 

Or to strange bars on the Southside of town.

 

Her father had been revealed as the black hood a few years before, her brother found dead the next day, said to be his last victim. As if that wasn’t enough, and although it never made the news, he remembered hearing about how her mother vanished shortly after, running off with a rumored cult along with her only living sibling and nephews… leaving her all alone. He didn’t know the details, but he knew what it was like to lose family. Though even while his mother had taken off, taking his sister and best friend with her, he at least always still had his father. He was a drunk, useless, but he still had him.

 

_She had no one._

 

He remembered the media had attended her High School graduation a week after her father’s arrest, hoping she would say something about him in her speech, so she should have been halfway through her junior year of college with her friends, living a carefree life filled with excitement for the future by now. What he knew though, since he nearly answered the ad for a journalist a couple years prior before his self doubt had him changing his mind, was that she had stayed in town to run the paper her parents once owned, trying to keep it from sinking like the rest of her life had.

 

Her face, while still so beautiful and innocent, had lines already from the weariness and the weight on her shoulders, making her look older than her 21 years. He watched as the smile she shot at the bartender while placing her order masked it for a moment, bringing forth the youthful girl that was still struggling to survive inside.

 

No matter how strong a person was, they all come to a point where they couldn’t take anymore. This girl had experienced horrors most people couldn’t even imagine, so he understood it must have taken a toll. He was surprised she was able to keep going at all. He’d seen people crumble under a lot less weight.

 

Jughead sat back down in the chair he had been just about to vacate, obliging Sweet Pea and Fangs by letting them know he would stay a little longer. They cheered and went off to order another round of beers, thinking they had finally made him cave for once.

 

He hated bars, never drinking more than a sip or two of his beer before making an excuse to leave. He’d spent too much of his childhood in them, searching for his father, getting his father out of trouble, hoping every day would be the day FP Jones finally found what he was looking for at the bottom of his bottle and would be on the road to recovery. It took twenty four years of his son's life for it to finally happen, but Jughead’s heart swelled at the thought of his dad officially being two years sober.

 

His eyes watched Betty as she threw back a shot, then another, before grabbing her beer and taking in the room around her.

 

No one here would know her but him because people on the Southside didn’t care for the goings on on the Northside. Sure, they would have heard about the Black Hood, but that was it. They’d never know this angel sitting on the dirty barstool in front of them was his daughter, or that she came to escape her life for a while knowing that no one here would know her. No one would judge her.

 

He nearly stood when she was approached by one of the regulars, the instinctive need to protect her confusing him, but he just gripped his bottle and watched. Watched as she smiled, as she accepted his offer to dance, and as she let the man twirl her around the floor. Hours passed, feeling like days as he sat there watching her, dance after dance, her hair coming down, the tension that filled her body loosening, her smile looking less strained and more real.

 

The way she floated over the floor, making her partner look like an expert even though he was a clumsy mess made him think that she must have been a dancer before her life went dark.

 

He watched her relax. He watched her escape her reality for a while. Someplace where she wasn't the daughter of a murderer, the daughter of a cult member… but just a woman. A normal woman. Free from her burdens.

 

The next night he found himself agreeing to go to the bar with his friends again, wondering if the night before was just a one time thing, but his heart skipped a beat as she walked through the door again. Looking less hesitant as she approached the bar now. Same drinks, same order. Someone new approached her this time, and Jug felt his stomach up in his throat as he watched them again. Dance after dance, enough drinks to make her comfortable but never enough to get her drunk. That was the only reason he didn’t move as she left with her new dance partner that night, a shy smile on her face.

 

He knew the guy, knew he wasn’t dangerous. And he knew what it was like to need a release that random hookups allowed. He would never judge, he often took comfort in them himself.

 

He hoped she had gotten what she’d needed, afraid the dirty bar would dim whatever light she had left inside, but the next week, she was back. It was like clockwork, every Friday and Saturday, the same time. And every week, he found himself there, waiting for her. To watch over her. New men, new dances. Sometimes they’d get the invite to go home with her, most times not.

 

The beautiful blonde, spinning around the dance floor, hour after hour, pretending to be free from the darkness she was burdened to carry. He knew her intentions were mostly good - that she just wanted to escape - but as the days passed, he began to worry. He knew it was a slippery slope between wanting to escape and starting to _need_ the escape. She was quickly moving from one to the other and he felt helpless, just like he had as a child watching his father do the same thing.

 

He feared approaching her, commenting on the drinks. Afraid she would just move to a new bar and continue her dance, away from him. Where he couldn’t make sure the men she left with weren't evil, where he wouldn’t know if she had started to need more alcohol to cope. To where he wouldn’t know if the alcohol would stop being enough.

 

He didn’t know why he felt protective of her. Maybe she reminded him of his sister, or maybe he just didn’t want to see someone else fall into the sick cycle his father and so many others had found themselves in, most that were unable to claw their way out.

 

He didn’t play well with people, one of the reasons he only had a small group of friends. Other than an occasional hook up here and there, he didn’t do relationships either. His parents had done a number on each other, and while he knew his situation wouldn’t have to end the same, he had no interest in trying. He was damaged goods from a rough childhood and even rougher teen years that ended with a short stint in prison. He had his own demons… and he refused to burden anyone with them.

 

That was part of it of why he never approached her. The other part fear, that if he spoke to her, he’d change his mind about not wanting a relationship with someone. That he would want to give her everything that he was capable of, and that she wouldn’t want what little he had to offer.

 

Five weeks passed without her ever even noticing him, too lost in the new pattern she found herself in. But one night, as Fangs called his name and he turned to walk backwards to acknowledge him on his way to the bar, they stumbled into each other.

 

_“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Betty chuckled, her face flushed as she looked down at her feet as if to scold them for making her stumble before looking up to meet his eyes._

 

_He saw the way they changed, darkening as she looked him over. The flirty smile she had been wearing faded to a shy one as she bit her lip. “Hi, I’m Betty.”_

 

_She was even more beautiful up close, and the hurt in her eyes was much more visible than from far away. And much worse than he’d thought. His heart clenched, his voice quiet as he replied. “I know.”_

 

_She laughed then, the action lighting up her face and washing over him. “How do you know my name?”_

 

_He didn’t tell her he knew it from the news, or that even if he hadn’t known who she was that first day, that the asshole she had hooked up with the week before had written her name with a crude message on the bathroom stalls shortly before Jughead made sure he couldn’t write anything else for a long while, and would never step foot in the bar or near her again._

 

_He just shrugged in response, and she laughed again. “Would you like… to dance?” she asked, the usual confidence she radiated after a couple drinks dimmed as she waited for his answer. He’d never danced in his life, but everything in him wanted to say yes, to say yes to anything she asked. To help her erase that lost look in her eyes and help her find her way again._

 

_He only shook his head though, ignoring the flash of hurt and embarrassment in her eyes before excusing himself._

 

Fangs told him the next day that she had left early that night, and not alone, but he shrugged it off.

 

He couldn’t save her in the way she needed. He was still trying to save himself most days. He would burden her more.

 

The weeks kept passing, the same routine, only now she would find him as she danced, always watching, looking away quickly when he would catch her eye.

 

She looked at him differently than she did the other men, but he ignored it.

 

He couldn’t get involved. _Wouldn’t._

 

He wouldn’t be one of the men she used to escape and then be a nobody the next night. And he knew that was all he could give her. So he watched. Waited. Hoping that one day she would stop showing up, that she would understand that her want to escape was becoming a need.

 

But still she came.

 

Still they continued their dance. Her watching him. Him watching her.

 

The alcohol came in larger doses, she started coming an extra night every week. He could see the world weighing heavier on her shoulders.

 

 _“If I didn’t know better, I would say you’ve fallen in love with blondie over there.”_ Toni had told him the week prior.

 

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, running his fingers through his hair before replacing his beanie._

 

 _Toni sighed. “You feel like you’re not good enough, don’t you?” Jughead shifted, his eyes narrowing at the beer he hadn’t touched. “You think she’ll do with you what she does with the rest of these nobodies that she turns to for temporary comfort. Or that you’ll make her life worse if by chance she_ did _want more than just a hookup.”_

 

_Jughead shook his head, taking a sip of his beer, cringing at the taste. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

 

_Toni, rested her hand on his shoulder and put her chin on it, looking up at him. “You know, maybe you guys could save each other.”_

 

He didn’t know what it was exactly. Toni’s words, his own feelings, watching her hit the bottle even harder and not wanting to see her become fully dependent on it, but the following week, as he watched some new man spin her around the floor, he found himself standing and walking to them, his heart threatening to beat from his chest.

 

He watched as her eyes found him, focused, widened.

 

He cleared his throat when he neared them and stopped, a slower song starting to play through the speakers- an 80’s tune about tragic love. _How fitting._

 

“Can I cut in?”

 

Betty’s eyes flashed, never leaving his as she nodded slightly, letting her arms fall from around the man in front of hers neck and ignoring him when he told her he would get them another round before walking away.

 

Jughead reached out hesitantly, his hand finding her small waist as she moved her arms around his neck, bringing her body close to his, but not touching.

 

“I’m Jughead,” he told her, his eyes unable to look away from the swirling green of hers as he moved his hands to her back and swayed side to side.

 

Trying to ignore how having her arms wrapped around him made him feel like he was _home_.

 

A small smile haunted her lips as she looked down and then hesitantly met his eyes again.

 

“Hi Jughead, I’ve been hoping you would ask me to dance.”

 

She smelled like vanilla, masking the scent of booze and motor oil around them and he closed his eyes for a moment as he inhaled, feeling her body move slightly closer to his, more hesitant than he’d seen her be with others.

 

“I’m not much of a dancer.”

 

She chuckled then, the sound washing over him. “You’re doing perfect.”

 

The song faded into another, and then another. Her previous dancing partner came and left, realizing he wasn’t going to be cutting back in. Jughead had felt awkward at first, standing there, slightly swaying, while her eyes traced every line of his face as if committing it to memory.

 

He wondered if she could see he was lost too. If his own demons were visible in the lines, if his eyes were as haunted as hers.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he found himself asking as the song picked up again, the pace drawing more people to dance floor.

 

Betty’s eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher and had him quickly adding to his statement.  

 

“I’m hungry.” He told her and it wasn't a lie. “I know this diner up on the Northside. We could grab a burger… and talk?”

 

Betty sucked in a deep breath through her nose before exhaling slowly. “To talk?”

 

She sounded so surprised that his heart clenched for the broken girl in front of him and made him wish he had approached her sooner. That very first night even. To prevent all of this.

 

“Yes, Betty. To talk.”

 

He stopped breathing when her lip trembled, when she squeezed her eyes shut tight and opened them to reveal tears barely being held back, making the green of them shine bright in the dark bar.

 

“You have no idea how much I would love to just talk.”

 

Her words came out in a whisper, her shoulders falling as if a weight had been lifted.

 

Jughead found himself smiling down at her and holding out a hand. Her palm was small and soft as it met his, her fingers curling around his larger ones, bringing a comfort he didn’t he could feel.

 

Even if it only lasted through the night, through their burgers and conversation at Pops, even if tomorrow had them falling back into the same routine they had been in before he asked her to dance...

 

He knew that for at least tonight, they would be saving each other for a while.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Find me on tumblr: [secretsofthesky](http://www.secretsofthesky.tumblr.com)
> 
> The song is by Tim McGraw.


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